Battlefield: Shockwave
by kingkonrad
Summary: A BF3 based fan-fic from the perspectives of a group of GRU Operatives, after the main events of the game  Will add new chapters . It's my first story, so feel free to comment and review!


**Battlefield: Shockwave**

_First story I've written on this site…guess it's in at the deep end. I'd really like to have some review of my narrative, so if you like it, tell me what you think! I'm making it a series, a kind of post BF3 thing, focused around the Russians, and namely, Lt Denis Petrov. This chapter introduces what he does, and a sort of beginning. I will introduce more characters, and bring in probably a lot more sense to it- this chapter is a simply an Operation to root out a weapons dealer._

_Disclamer: I do not own the Battlefield 3 series, and so forth. The characters stated in my story are of my creation, and any references to any that are not, are copyright of DICE._

_This story has a tie-in with the story of Battlefield 3 and will contain spoilers._

**Chapter One: Operation Weedkiller**

**Somewhere near the Caspian Sea, Turkmenistan**

**January 25th, 2015**

**Lieutenant Denis Petrov, Vympel, Spetznaz GRU**

**0645 Hours**

The bush rattled only slightly in the wind, as I crawled through, finally where I wanted to be. I had a pair of binoculars, dangling from my neck, black in colour and rough in texture, as well as my rifle, on my back, where it had been for the past twenty minutes. It was an AN-94, with a reasonably worn 3.4 zoom PK-A scope, and a large, cold steel silencer on the end of the barrel of the AN-94 rounded it off, for the purpose we'd use it for. It felt perfect, and in the hands of someone like me….it was more than just deadly. Vympel didn't mess around; when they'd send people like me, things got done. We were just "Cleaners". We were a race, one of which you cannot stop, or judge simply. We did a job for Russia, as effectively as we could. I was alone, here in this bush, about 100 meters away from a mansion of our target, and inside, was the target himself. The Mansion seemed a bland one, old in design but a typical Soviet era villa, with maybe a few posts for guards to keep an eye on the land from around here, and the target inside. But the target inside was more important, of course. He was a man of simple needs, with more than just an agenda to fuel probably half of the PLR's insurgency with weaponry seized from the former USSR. But I was not completely alone, in my act here. Leon was armed with his SV-98, about 500m away from the target building, and he too, wasn't feeling any worse than me. A silencer rounded off his rifle, and a ghillie suit kept him covered, in the distance. He sat in a tree, but one that I knew wouldn't be seen. I even lost my track of him when I looked back, during my half hour reconnaissance of this place. It was boring, but at least I knew that slowly and surely, we would get this man. I was told that the target was simply named "Konstantin" by my handlers, and that me and Leon were to simply wipe out his security detail, and then kill him. He was a weapons dealer- like many, but this one had done something that Russia could not stand and watch. The way in was simple- Leon would drop a few guards, with the sniper, and I would move. The detail wasn't too large- maybe twenty men, but I was going to have to make sure that it played in my advantage when I was engaging them, and that when I did, nothing went wrong. The target getting away or the detail either killing me or Leon meant game over. It seemed to be me that would be the first to die, if I fucked myself over. Well, that I couldn't let happen. As the wind picked up, from the coast of the overcast and grey Caspian, only asking to rain, I waited, putting my binoculars back round my neck, my scan of the area complete, as I readied my rifle. It was loaded, and as I set it to it's two round burst, unique in firing at 1200rpm, I waited for my moment. My uniform was a simple woodland green, with a bulletproof vest covering most of my chest and abdomen, and some kneepads were also on my kneecaps, making the pain of lying down in an uncomfortable bush go away a little. Two grenades were also on me, and a small, loaded MP443 pistol reminded me of what to do I used up the four clips of my AN-94. A balaclava was over my face, and a headset was in a hole I had made in my ear, giving me a direct hearing of what Leon had to report. I needed to make mine- I wasn't prepared to wait any moment longer. I would rush the place, moving in from the side, and Leon would simply snipe anyone who ran out any other exit, from his excellent vantage point, on his tree. I knew that it was simple in theory. Things never were.

"Leon, I see two guards, holding a post to my right front. Reckon you can get them?" I spoke, extremely quietly, checking the AN-94, and the scope, something that I liked. I preferred it to the Kobra, or the PKA-S, because it provided zoom along with peripheral vision. I guess that's the thing about this sort of stuff. I just seem to know it- it's my training, something that comes with the job. The bush I was in currently provided me with perfect cover, and since it was on the inside of a wire fence I had broken through a few minutes earlier, inside the compound of the Mansion, I knew it would be a simple breakthrough to make from here to there. As soon as I was in, the work began.

"Copy that. I can take the one on the right; you need to get the other. I can't pull the bolt back fast enough to get him." Leon simply said, as I knew that was probably what I expected of him.

"Sure. I have acquired my target, on your mark." I spoke, knowing fully that it now began. If the guards heard, from inside, then I was going to face an uphill battle.

"Three, two…." Leon spoke; the SV98's scope pointed about 50cm over the guard's head, his voice sounding nearly sounding like he had muttered as he tended to do when he was concentrating. He had not said one, because he had by that point held his breath, and his scope firmly stopped, the target's head momentarily still, he fired, the subsonic round quickly leaving the chamber. A few hundred meters later, it had dropped, but stayed quieter than a regular bullet, and was on path. When the guard had barely moved an inch, it was too little, too late, as the bullet simply carved its way through the outside of the bottom of his skull, and gone straight through his mouth. I followed it up, as I fired from the bush, a simple two-round burst into the other guard's head, a slightly louder shot than Leon's, but it had done the trick, as he also dropped, barely able to see what had happened to his friend. It was a ruthlessly efficient piece of work, and as I scrambled forward, I knew it was time to move up, and rush in, before any other guards got note that there were two men dead.

"Leon, if it moves, shoots it. I'm bagging this bastard." I spoke, with anger, as I checked the post, a small wooden hut, and moved up, running but not sprinting, as I headed for the side entrance. None of the guards had noticed, it seemed, but I was about to change that. As I saw the door, I walked up to the side of it, waiting here for the moment, hoping that I was still out of sight from the rest of the guards, and that they were defending their areas. Inside there, was some kind of post for the guards to live at, and that was my first port of call. As I readied myself up, to make this operation loud, another guard came out, and seemingly, to light a cigar. I smoked myself, but I knew that this would a premature death due to smoking, for this guard anyway. They would all be getting it, at some point or another. I took my knife out, and as I did, I moved forward, toward him, and knew what to do next. The Spetsnaz knife was something of a treasure to me- but that didn't make it any less of a killing tool. I simply held him by the mouth, with my left arm, and plunged my knife into his neck with my right, effortlessly, as I dragged him back, keeping his screams quiet. He was weak, and seemed like just a former PLR, probably out of there after the war in Iran, and clearly scared. After dumping his body, I knew that stealth was no longer an option. I was prepared to go for it. As I checked the rifle, for one last time, by the door again, a dead man's body behind me, I breached. The noise of guards could be heard, simultaneously, probably after discovering the body. Added to that, it was probably that because Leon had taken another shot, and it sounded like it hit somewhere away from the mansion, not here, maybe at the guards who had found it. But I wasn't focussed on that any longer- now, I had to do what I did best. As I entered, I fired quickly, upon two guards who stood in the room their bunks to their left and right, clearly for those doing shifts. I shot the other three who were in their beds, as I was moving in, aiming down my sights and keeping a controlled breath. The three in the beds each got two bullets to the chest area, I guessed to myself, whereas I spent a few more rounds on the two standing guards, waiting around or talking to each other, or whatever they had been doing before I disrupted their little peace. Now things were going down. It had been only a minute since me and Leon had killed two of the guards back at the post at the edge of the Mansion's compound and surroundings, and now I had no time to lose. As I kept my pace up, I had reloaded the AN-94, pulling the magazine out, and loading in another, cocking the bolt at the side, and then switching to fully automatic fire. The one disadvantage about the AN-94 was it's slow full-auto rate, though it was better than nothing. Two-round bursts here would not be enough, but he knew he would have to be careful now. I just needed to head to the atrium, where Konstantin would probably run to, and then get him there.

"You've got troops, all over. They're headed to the house." Leon spoke, as I cursed under my breath. They weren't going to help my situation, as I responded slyly.

"Dammit. Tell Alexi to get the car ready, and get to the front gate of this place. Secure it and provide fire on the front of the mansion there." I had stated myself clearly, and quickly, as Leon knew what to do, firing one last shot on his last target, then getting out of the tree, moving off the hill, as I knew I had to buckle up. A few more troops came in, through the front, and I simply shot them both, with a little inaccurate fire, which spent half my magazine, as I kept moving. They were dead, but the 5.45mm cartridge, as I remembered, had nowhere near the absolute punch of a 7.62mm in an AK-47 or a SKS, only being more useful for precision and penetration due to the speed of the cartridge. As they were downed, I continued. Three mags left. I headed straight up the stairs, which dominated the atrium, where the rooms were, and I would find Konstantin. It was luxurious- it may have looked bleak on the outside, but inside, wood furnished everything, with nice lighting and a generally bright atmosphere in every part of the building, except for the guards' quarters. In the upstairs, where the bedrooms were, and the corridors went on, I kept my pace, as I moved from the stairs, straight toward the corridors, to the master bedroom. If Leon had not spotted Konstantin at the front, then he had to be there. If he was at the rear, I would have had him. But this was it. As a few of his guards came from the bottom of the atrium, I had to quickly move, as bullets rushed past me, and I always wondered if one even hit my bulletproof vest, as there was a shockwave that hit my stomach area, but not causing any blood. Perhaps it was a close shot- or an actual 9mm round. They were all using pistols, and as I turned to them, my cover at the top of the stairs that I had improvised, behind a table, I fired back, expending the rest of the mag but taking two of them out in the torso area, the third retreating to reload. I had done well- so far. As I reloaded, I knew that time was passing, and Konstantin was going to run. It was now or never, I thought to myself. As soon as the magazine was in, I fired a simple burst of the fully-automatic mode, aiming straight down the sight, at the last guard in the atrium, and moved out, assured that a bullet had definitely passed through his eyeball. It was a sick thought, but it kept me going, as I ran toward the room, where Konstantin, was heard inside.

"Give me your gun, or the bastard will kill me!" Konstantin could be heard, as I knew it must be him. I wasn't taking any chances- as I ran, toward the door, I kicked it in, with my right leg, rifle and arm confidently together, as I aimed straight in, to be faced with the two. A simple shot ended the guard, while I reserved my fire momentarily for Konstantin, who I simply did not react to. He truly was a traitor, and a scumbag. His face was thickly bearded, and he had the appearance of being old, though in reality he was only about 57. He wore a beige jacket, and some black trousers, and looked like a real millionaire- he had a nicely furnished room, with the bed the focal point, a small balcony facing toward the Caspian, approximately a kilometre away, and a large Plasma TV on the wall. But Konstantin himself was 6"0, and despite that height, he had nothing for it in weight. He was skinny, sort of weird for that sort of age. But I showed no remorse, as I held the AN-94 high, the silencer's extension leading the gun to point at his head.

"Get down on the ground!" I yelled, with true anger, two seconds later deciding that this wasn't going to work. This man was a dead man in Vympel's books, and he was going to be in mine too. He had slowly dropped to the floor, on his hands and knees, waiting for me to make my move. I had already made it, subconsciously taking the stock of the AN-94 by my left hand, and smashing it into his chest, letting him crumple to the floor, face first now.

"Listen! Whatever your handlers are giving you, I can double! Treble! Konstantin pleaded, moaning through the floor, as I simply kicked him over, and readied my aim. It was point blank- there was no point wasting time here, so I kept my grip tight on the AN-94, and kept the barrel right where I wanted it put.

"Not after what you got involved in. What you did to my friends." I said, coldly, as I pulled the trigger, and didn't look back. A single round let the blood run dry out of the back of his skull- and I knew that this life at least let me have vengeance. I knew there was no time to waste, however, as I made my way out of the room, pausing to radio to them. That was a story that I guess I had seen throughout 2014, and I knew Dima myself. What had happened to him, I don't know, but Vladmir was killed in Paris, and it was because of PLR, who had got weaponry from men such as Kaffarov and Konstantin, and they were also manipulated by people such as Solomon. Dima told me this himself- before he went and got radiation poisoning in Paris.

"Konstantin's dead. I'm moving to extract." I said, without an emotion that my work did not demand, as I checked the rest of the rooms, not taking a moment to move back to the atrium, where I knew the rest of the 20 guards would now be looking. There were probably 7 left now, or the rest had been sniped off by Leon.

"Roger. I have secured the front perimeter, just get here and we can get the hell out of here. Alexi's on his way." I heard back, from Leon, who had now a dead security booth, cleared out thanks to his secondary PP-2000, and he waited there now, overlooking the entrance to the Mansion, which led to the large atrium that gave way to where I had come back out, from where the rooms were dispersed. I had matters to solve, and as I moved out, I simply tossed a grenade, at the bottom of the stairs, as I took cover behind the same table, the AN-94 now switched back to it's 2-round burst. I had a score to settle. As I stayed down, and the grenade went off, pistol rounds flying past my cover and into it as well, I waited, until I got up and took my targets, getting back down until they cooled down.

"Give me a moment. I'm caught up with resistance." I spoke, as I fired another two, inaccurately by spraying over my cover, without exposing myself, and I guessed that I took maybe one out, possibly in the leg, or groin, because I knew that he had survived the shot, but was in clear pain. I reloaded the magazine as I got down, for what I knew would be the last time, and then moved from the table, on one of my last magazines that I knew would be probably the last ones I would need. I got the last few men, as I moved through, their aim with their Glock pistols inaccurate as I kept moving through at the top of the staircase, then silencing the last of their pistols, as I took the last man down, the last of Konstantin's security detail. I was done here.

"Eh, Denis, you done yet?" I asked, walking out, loading the rifle with another magazine, my last, and probably one I wouldn't use.

"Yeah. I'll see you at the gates." I responded, into my comms, as I made my way out, along the long tarmac road, to where the gate was, and the entrance to this mansion. I saw the Mercedes parked up, with a single soldier leant against it, wearing nearly the same sort of uniform as me, except for the balaclava and the body armor. He was Sergeant Leon Cherkov, and he was the sniper of the team, though he did mainly help me out with any CQB activity when things got tough, like six months before Operation Weedkiller, in Chechnya. His ghille suit was probably in the car, but his rifle was on him, where Leon's grip tightly held by it's barrel. Inside the car, sat another figure- Corporal Alexi Safin, uniformed in only a simple Russian Army fatigues, and he smoked a cigarette, calmly. He had some stubble, and was moreover a former Russian Naval Infantry soldier, with more experience in providing vehicular support, and as a regular operative, also working in our outfit as a driver most of the time. A forth man, not on this operation, was Private Mikhail Kozlov, who worked as our intelligence connective, and was just another bog-standard operative, sometimes coming along or not. As I took my balaclava off, and shook hands with Leon, smiles on both our faces for what I had just done made us glad that we had at least got rid of Konstantin. A nasty piece of work was gone, but not only that, we had more work, and more problems. We had only done this, to drag ourselves out for the problems that had brought Russia's relationship with America to the brink, and it was only caused by one misplaced GRU team, one misplaced VDV brigade, and a sick warlord named Solomon. The fact the Americans in Iran were now on the attack for the last remaining PLR, and still in a diplomatically screwed situation over the Araz Valley Incident, it made Russia look troubled. Whatever I got assigned to next with my squad, I was sure in my mind would be another issue to solve. Men such as the US Marines are still there, and we were just "the bad guys" as always, with the entire department of GRU now the largest focus of any US agency, and our intelligence looking for answers. We had to show something. And as I got in the car, I knew things were going to change. I sat in the back, and put my gun down, next to me, as I sat back, and looked over at Alexi.

"We got him. We got him, godamn." I spoke, coldly, but a little happily, as I sat up, Alexi starting the engine up and pulling away, speaking simultaneously.

"Yeah…we did. Nice work out there. We're being reassigned- we're to get a helicopter pickup a few miles from here, and get back to Astrakhan, from which we'll get back to the barracks. They say that we are to be hasty, and that we're getting involved in some sensitive stuff." He was confident in what he was saying, and stayed like that, even through to the end.

"Not this again. I honestly thought we would have some leave." Leon said, in the pessimistic way he would, but slightly jokingly, as he looked back at me.

"Yeah, well it turns out the Americans are a little confused about Araz. They don't know who fired first." Alexi said, changing the topic a little.

"Fingers crossed they never find out. They should have never come for him, and it was just a bloody coincidence that they followed us to him. Self defence, I suppose. They're like that, the Americans. They're always framing us, since the Cold War." Denis replied, just hoping it was like he had said- a simple act of self-defense, and nothing more.

"Yes, that was a mess. Eh Denis, you reckon we'll ever make friends at this rate? Most of those marines haven't got an IQ over 50." Leon asked, as he looked back, toward me, and then out the rear window, at where the rain now began.

"If Dima could, then maybe we can. They may be Americans, but they're US Marines, and that's something I can have respect for. One day…Maybe But we have to do what we do best- and that is serve Russia, not the world, at this moment in time."


End file.
